A Bright New Tomorrow
by ProcrastinatingPrincess
Summary: A child left on a door-stoop, desperate for love. A man tossed into prison without a trial, left with only his thoughts of revenge to keep him company. Five years have passed since that fateful day that Lord Voldemort walked into Godric's Hollow and murdered Lily and James Potter- five years of damage done to every soul they had ever touched. Time cannot erase all wounds. AU
1. The Storm

_AN: Yes, another Abused!Harry, Free!Sirius, Guilty!Remus story, but bare with me. I've got a few tricks up my sleeve, and if you're interested, stick with me and we can ride this out together.  
Triggers: Child Abuse. _

_Disclaimer: The world of Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling. I am making no money from this. _

* * *

_"History is always written by the winners. When two cultures clash, the loser is obliterated, and the winner writes the history books-books which glorify their own cause and disparage the conquered foe. As Napoleon once said, 'What is history, but a fable agreed upon?"_

― _Dan Brown__, __The Da Vinci Code_

**July 25th, 1986**

Lighting flashed across the sky, illuminating the night sky over Number 4 Privet Drive. The thunder roared after it, echoing off of the houses, rattling the windows, and hiding the small whimpers from the small cupboard under the stairs. A little boy was curled up under the stairs, bright green eyes filled with terrified tears. The bed was only covered in a thin sheet, no blanket in site, but that was alright, because the dirty clothes he had on were large enough for him to burrow almost completely into. An alarm went off near his head, making him jump again. Reaching small, bruised hands out, he pushed the button to quiet it.

_5:25 AM_

Throwing his thin legs out from under the covers, Little Harry Potter struggled to open his cupboard door. The light bruises all over his body certainly didn't help the fact, and neither did his malnourished body and lack of sleep. Yet, the six year old little boy never once complained. Perhaps, it was because it was all he knew. Perhaps, it was because his Uncle had drilled it into his head that he was a worthless 'freak'. Whatever the case, Harry moved around the kitchen as he did every morning, tears on his cheeks from the storm. He was scared, but after five years here at Number 4, he knew there would be no comfort for him.

By 6 o'clock, there was bacon sizzling on the stove as the tiny child tried to keep his skin from being burned by the hot grease. Toast was buttered on the table, along with a tall glass of orange juice.

"Why the devil isn't that bacon done, boy?" Vernon Dursley growled as he stomped into the kitchen, "You're suppose to have it done by the time I wake up." Sitting his fat ass down in the chair and starting to eat, "Don't burn that bacon, boy."

"Yes, Uncle Vernon," Harry replied in a small voice, stumbling toward the table and carefully dishing the bacon onto the plate. He offered his Uncle a small smile, hoping that he'd done it right this time. Maybe his Uncle would offer him a small bit of praise like he gave to Dudley, but of course, he received none.

"Where's my coffee?" Vernon grunted, opening the newspaper that Harry had fetched from the front step for him. The big man barely even glanced at his nephew, deeming him unworthy of his time. This was routine by this point. He woke up and the little freak had his breakfast waiting for him. He left for work, leaving a long list of chores that Harry had better have gotten finished by the time he returned home. If he had, Harry would then make dinner and be given a small plate to take back to his closet. If he did not...well, at the very least, the ungrateful brat would have no dinner, "My coffee better be in my hand in the next five seconds, boy."

"Yes, Uncle Vernon," Harry squeaked, rushing to the coffee pot. How could he have forgotten? Pouring the scalding liquid into the glass with trembling hands, a bit of the liquid hit his hand, burning his already scarred hands. Stepping toward the table, thunder rocked the house again. In an instant, the cup was falling from little hands, crashing against the floor and shattering on bare feet, "I-I-I'm s-sorry, sir!" The little boy was already cringing away as the large man shoved the chair back, rage in his eyes.

"You worthless piece of shit!" Vernon raged, hatred burning in his eyes as he raised his fist. The storm covered the sounds of fists pounding against soft flesh, and the cries of a little boy who only wanted to be loved.

_7: 23 AM_

Storms at Azkaban Prison were an exciting time for the mangy mutt pacing back and forth in his cell. Screams and moans and curses filled the halls, occasionally drowned out by the thunder. Dementors roamed the halls, keeping everyone in check, and aiding in the bone-cold shivers that reigned over everyone imprisoned within the already cold stone walls.

Reason number one-hundred and fifty seven why Sirius was grateful to be a dog. The animagus went back to his corner, gazing down at the newspapers that he'd had smuggled in for himself. They kept him sane, or as sane as anyone could be in this place. Perhaps he was only pushing off the inevitable, but Sirus Black had a reason to preserve, and that reason was the fact that out in the world, the person who had murdered his best friends was living. Someday...he would figure out how to avenge them.

With that thought in mind, he never expected visitors. His friends were dead or believed him to be a murderer of the worst kind. Who would visit him? His answer came when he saw a man standing at the edge of his cell door.

"Black," A cold voice sneered, "Is it really wise to be a dog?"

Sirius Black was a man a second later, bark like laughter spilling over rotting teeth, "Severus Snape," he rocked himself, still in the throes of laughter, "Have they invented a new form of torture for me? Sending greasy-"

"If you want to insult the man who has come to be your liberation, I can turn around and leave right now," Snape threatened coolly as another figure stepped around him. Now, Sirius fell silent, his eyes locked on the second man. All laughter was gone from his face, any color that may have been there, drained away.

"Remus."

Remus Lupin looked older than he had when Sirius had seen him last. He was thinner with more wrinkles around his eyes and mouth. When his amber eyes rested on his old friend, Remus was filled with pain. Nodding his head ever so slightly, the wolf took a breath, "Hello, Sirius, ready to go home?"

"I don't even remember what home is, Remmy," Sirius confessed from the back of his cell, swallowing hard, "Were you serious when you said you'd come to liberate me, Snivellus? Or are you just being cruel?" His answer came in the form of the cell opening. For a moment, all he could do was stare at the open doorway. The only thing that had kept him from freedom for nearly five years, "Did you find the Rat?"

There was another clap of thunder, followed by more screams from the prisoners. Severus and Remus remained silent for a moment, and it weighed heavily on all three men. The tension was thick enough to cut with a knife. Remus was finally the one to end it, walking into the cell and holding his hand out to Sirius, "Yes, but he got away. Let's get you out of here, Padfoot."

Another heavy moment passed, but then Sirius accepted the hand that had been offered to him, "Harry? Where is Harry? Do you have him? The Rat can't get to him, can he?" He stumbled against his old friend, shoulders shaking as relief flowed through him. Freedom. He was going to be free.

"In due time, Black. For now, I think we should get out of here before the dementors decide to feast on what may or may not be left of your soul." Severus interrupted, lip curled up in disgust at the site before him. Obviously, he felt he had better places to be.

Sirius growled, but held fast onto his friend. Without another word, the trio made their way from the eery and painful prison halls. Sirius was in a daze as the wizard guards at the front presented him with his clothing and his wand. The entire process seemingly a dream to a man who believed that his entire life would be spent in hiding. Exhaustion hit as soon as the malnourished, abused man stepped out of the building into the fresh air which smelled of the storm that had just finished. The sun was peeking through the clouds as Sirius Black, the free man, sunk to his knees, unconscious before he felt Remus's arms keeping his head from bashing off a rock.

* * *

_9:00 AM_

Remus Lupin was a simple man, and he had been made even more so over the past five years. After the death of two of his best friends, followed immediately by the 'murder' and incarceration of his remaining two friends, the werewolf had gone into isolation. Of course he had attempted to get custody of Harry, but with his condition, and for some reason, Albus Dumbledore's insistence that Harry be sent to live with his blood-relations, Remus hadn't stood a chance. Living in this small cottage, Remus made his living as a tutor to young witches and wizards whose families weren't prejudiced enough to condemn him.

Amber eyes flicked toward his couch where a man he believed had been a traitor less than twenty-four hours before was still sleeping. Remus watched Sirius's concave chest rise and fall easily, his mangy hair hanging in his face. Grief at the time lost between them gnawed at his heart. Guilt that he hadn't trusted Sirius to never to betray James and Lily tying his stomach in knots.

* * *

"_Peter? But, you're dead!" Remus shouted, eyes wide at the small man who was crouched down behind a bush. The rat man had looked up in alarm, stuttering Remus's name before trying to bolt away, but it was too late. The damage had been done. It wasn't only Remus in that park, and the moment enough people had verified the story, everyone knew that the wrong man had been imprisoned. Remus had run right to Dumbledore, who had pulled the strings to get Sirius out of the Hell of a prison. Of course, he would have his trial now, but until then, he would be staying with Remus; a free man._

* * *

"If you stare any harder, your eyes are going to fall out of your head, Remmy," Sirius mumbled, his eyes still closed. Immediately, Remus was out of the chair, moving toward the raven haired man. Before kneeling down, he pulled some vials out of his robes, helping Sirius up before practically shoving the contents down his old friend's throat.

"What the bloody hell was that?" Sirius coughed, wiping his mouth with a dirty sleeve. Grey eyes rose to meet Remus's gaze, finding the other man's eyes filled with guilt. Somehow, Sirius could not find it in himself to try and make it disappear.

"Severus brewed them for you, Sirius. They're potions to help with your malnutrition as well as any injuries you hav-"

"Snivellus brewed them? What if the snake poisoned me, Remus? Since when do we accept potions from Death Eaters?" Sirius barked, tempted to rush toward the sink and expunge the potions, but that would require too much movement, and damn it, he was in pain.

"Snape isn't a Death Eater, Sirius," Remus sighed, gently pushing his friend back down, "You need to rest. Your body isn't strong yet. No one could be after five years in that _place." _The wolf insisted, meeting his friend's eyes, his own full of regret, "I should have known, Sirius. I should have realized that you would never betray our friends. I was lost in grief, and I was a coward." It was all said in a breath, like a leak in a balloon that just couldn't be stopped. Remus didn't realize there were tears on his cheeks until Sirius reached up to brush them away with trembling fingers.

Sirius wanted to be angry. He wanted to scream and hit something, but as he looked at his friend, he knew that it wasn't just Azkaban that broke people. Grief and guilt were more oppressive than even the dementors. At least for Sirius, he had known that he was innocent. There had been a purpose for his continued existence: Get the Rat. Get Harry. For Remus, it seemed as if he'd had nothing to keep him going over the years.

After a moment of silence, Sirius finally let Remus ease him back onto the couch. He had to admit that the wolf was accurate enough about his body. There was an ache in his bones that he didn't think would ever go away entirely, but it was nothing compared to the gaping wound in his mind and heart, "It's in the past now, isn't it?" The shaggy haired man muttered, avoiding Remus's gaze. Forgiveness must be earned, and Sirius wasn't sure he'd ever actually be able to let go of this discretion completely, as much as it pained him to realize. Some mistakes simply could not be fixed, "Where is Harry? If you don't have him, who does?"

Remus forced himself away from Sirius's side, his chest feeling as if something very sharp and hot had been shoved through it. He didn't know what he'd expected, but it had been worse than this. At least the other man wasn't shutting him out completely. At the question, he lifted a hand to his head, letting out another very long breath. Sirius wasn't going to like his answer.

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_Next Chapter: Dumbledore has been ignoring the signs, and a desperate mother will do anything to make sure her son is safe._


	2. The Truth

AN: I have to scurry off to work, so this hasn't been edited, but I wanted to get it up. I will go over it as soon as I get home, but I hope you like this chapter, and I really appreciate the reviews, follows, and favorites! Happy Reading!

TW: Child Abuse

Disclaimer: I still don't own Harry Potter.

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"All families have their secrets, most people would never know them, but they know there are spaces, gaps where the answers should be, where someone should have sat, where someone used to be. A name that is never uttered, or uttered just once and never again. We all have our secrets."

― Cecelia Ahern, _The Book of Tomorrow_

_July 30th, 1986_

Sometimes, in our own pride or sensibility, or perhaps the simple desire to believe we have done the right thing, it is possible to miss facts looking us right in the face. Albus Dumbledore was not a fool by any means. In fact, most would argue that he was easily the brightest mind of an age. He could not help but disagree in the current situation. Sitting behind his desk, the old wizard had his hands on the third letter this month from Petunia Dursley. His denials were starting to sound false even within his own mind as he reread the correspondence sent three days prior.

_Dumbledore,_

_I know you are reading these! I cannot make it more clear that the boy does not belong here! He is causing upset in my household that I simply cannot stand by and watch any longer. He will never belong here, and it is out of love for my sister that I implore you to fix this problem for the sake of everyone involved. I did not know it would be this incredibly challenging for my husband to accept. My own son is a challenge enough, and this extra stress is too much. If you do not find other arrangements, I will be forced to do so on my own._

_Petunia Evans Dursely._

Before he had let himself truly read the letter, or inquire farther, the ancient man had responded without thought.

_Mrs. Dursely,_

Although it troubles me that you are having so much trouble with your nephew, we have spoken before about the fact that it is your blood that keeps him safe. There is no other arrangement that will protect both your family and young Harry safe, if the enemies of your sister should ever return to power. I will see, perhaps, about a short reprieve for your family? I know that Arabella Figg would be more than glad to take him off of your hands for a few days. I would be glad to make those arrangements for you.

_Looking forward to hearing back from you,  
_ _Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore_

_Order of Merlin, First Class._

The doubt had sunk in as he had watched the owl fly away. What in heaven's name would prompt her to send him so many messages at once? Of course, the added fact that Arabella had been owling him constantly was not lost on him. This had lead him to gathering the many files on his desk, after he had taken care of the matter of Sirius Black.

Slender fingers flipped through the file again, leaving the twinkle in his eyes dimmed and the wrinkles on his face more defined. Flicking his wand, he sent his patronus off to bring Severus Snape to his office. If he trusted anyone to ease or confirm his worries, it would be Severus. He only hoped he wasn't too busy with his daughter. When the door burst open only a few seconds later, Albus glanced up through his half mooned spectacles, surprised to find himself face to face with yet another person who had depended upon him, and he had let down.

Sirius Black had cleaned himself up in the past five days. Already, the color of his skin had returned to a healthier shade. His hair had been trimmed nicely and cleaned, leaving soft waves to frame a smooth jaw. His eyes however, were bleak and angry pools of dark brown, "I have done everything you've asked me to do, Dumbledore. I have cleaned up. Remus and I have been looking at apartments, and I have gone to the ministry so many times my fucking legs are going to fall off. I want to see Harry. I don't _care_ if he has to go back to the muggles afterward, but I want to see him." Sirius was on a tangent, and Dumbledore sighed.

"If you would calm down for a moment, Sirius, we can discuss the possibility-" He began, only to be cut off by the entrance of Remus Lupin. Of course, Remus handled himself much better than Sirius at the given moment, but Albus couldn't help but be amused by the stubborn set of the younger man's brow and jaw. There was no doubt that the two had planned to gang up on him.

"I don't want to discuss," Sirius snapped, "I want you to tell me the damn address, so I can see my godson." Little did the animagus realize that Albus was very close to letting him do just that. He turned to Remus, gesturing helplessly, "Tell him, Remus. Tell him I genuinely don't plan to kidnap him." _Yet._

"Albus, I don't see the harm in letting Harry come to visit," Remus conceded, "For his birthday, and the fact that neither of us have seen or heard about him in five years." Glancing over his shoulder at the sound of footsteps, Remus stood aside for the Head of Slytherin house.

"You called for me, Headmaster?" Severus drawled, completely ignoring the two other angry men in the office with him. Albus met his gaze, and without a word, handed up the file he'd been reading. Severus raised an eyebrow, making no comment and ignoring the angry huffing of the dog. He had absolutely no idea what was in the file, or what it concerned, but the moment he opened it, his stomach filled with dread. There, staring up at him, were Lily Evan's green eyes gazing up at him. Only the eyes were dimmed and in the head of a small boy who could have looked like James Potter were it not for the dark bruising across his cheek and the shadows under his eyes. The writing under the image claimed that the child was four in the picture, but he looked no bigger than a toddler. His arm was in a cast, and, as he read on, Severus found that there were more injuries than could be seen in the image.

Flipping past the picture, he didn't dare raise his gaze to Dumbledore, sure that he would see the rage boiling in their jet black depths. The second page was about the CPS report. There wasn't enough evidence, and the story that the boy had fallen from the tree out back had held up. Bullshit. Severus didn't need to see anymore. With precise movements, he rested the file on the desk again, turning his gaze to Dumbledore, wordless condemnation communicated in a single glance, "Are you ready to leave, Black?" He suddenly snapped, turning to glare at Sirius.

Taken aback, the other man sneered, "What's it to you, Snape?" His eyes darted to the file, almost curious, "I'm not leaving until Albus tells me where my Godson-"

"We're going to get Potter, so if you would follow me." Without a word to Albus, Snape turned to the door, robes billowing out behind him, "Albus, if you would make sure that Trix is in bed if I am not back before nine." Considering the fact that it was hardly afternoon, he doubted it would be necessary.

Sharing a startled glance with Remus, and wondering who the hell Trix was, Sirius bolted after the dark wizard, leaving Dumbledore alone in his office to come to terms with his guilt.

* * *

_Wax on. Wax off. Wax on. Wax off. _The cute little mantra was playing through Harry's mind as he struggled to wash the kitchen floor on his hands and knees, something sharp prodding his lungs each and every time he breathed, but the little boy knew it would only get worse if he didn't get all of his chores done by the time Uncle Vernon woke up from his nap. It was less time than usual, because his Uncle had taken the day off of work just to make sure that Harry didn't step a toe out of line. Apparently, he'd been extra bad again, because the nice people in the fancy suits had showed up at the door again, asking about him. Uncle Vernon had, of course, gotten them to go away after showing them 'Harry's' drawings that he'd hung up in the hallway.

A small rumbling filled the room, and for a moment, the soon-to-be six year old was very confused as to where it was coming from, but then he realized his belly was actually growling, "Shh," he scolded his body. There was a point that he got to, where his body stopped reacting to being hungry, but Aunt Petunia had been sneaking him crackers and bread over the last few nights, so his tummy wanted more. It was all really confusing to Harry, who sometimes wondered why Dudley was allowed to have seconds and thirds when Harry wasn't even allowed firsts.

Of course, Harry knew the answer when he thought about it. Dudley got good things because he was a good boy, and his parents loved him very much. Harry was a bad 'freak' child, whose stupid parents died in a car wreck, and left him to burden Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia. He'd been told so often enough, and when you're five-going-on-six, you trusted what had literally been beaten into your brain.

His thoughts were broken by a knock on the door, and he moved so quickly he knocked over his bucket of water. Black dots danced around his vision as panic flooded his every sense, numbing the pain in his small body. Oh, no, oh no. He'd spilled the water. Frantically, he started to try and mop it up with his already soaked shirt, tears streaming down his cheeks. Uncle Vernon wasn't going to be happy. He wasn't going to be happy at all.

* * *

"If you don't stop shifting like an idiot, I will curse you," Snape snapped at Sirius as he waited on the stoop of the obscenely muggle house. He didn't care that Remus put an easing hand on Sirius's shoulder to hold him still. It was about bloody time. Tension rolled off of his body in waves, and the horse like woman who answered the door didn't put him at ease in the least, "Petunia," he greeted, voice like ice. There was a disturbing amount of relief on her face when she saw who it was.

"You." She gasped, opening the door, "You're here to-"

"Petunia, who's at the door?" A male voice called from the top of the steps, voice weary. It was only a few moments later that he stood behind his wife, beady eyes narrowing as he took in the appearance of the three men on his stoop, "You lot, eh? Go away, we don't want the neighbors to think we let freaks on our stoop."

Sirius growled, but Snape shot him a glare of warning before turning back to the oaf of a man, "We're here for the boy. We'll be off of your porch as soon as you let us see him." It was no struggle to keep himself calm as he looked at Vernon Dursely, but that didn't stop the sneer of disgust that curled up on his lip when he spoke next, "Trust me, we have no interest to be in your home."

Vernon's face was going through a barrage of colors and shapes as he opened his mouth, a hand on Petunia's shoulder, "The boy is at school, so maybe you lot haven't heard of phoning ahead before you come for a visit. Regardless, I made it very clear when we took that boy in that we wouldn't be putting up with any freakyness here, which means your lot nee-"

"Except Harry isn't at school," Sirius snarled, stepping up beside Snape, wand out and pointing at the man. His eyes were burning, "Where is my Godson? Don't think I won't curse your fa-"

"Vernon, stop," Petunia's voice seemed less shrill, less obnoxious, "This has gone on long enough. I asked them to come." Her nose was in the air, everything about her body language reading disgust, but Snape wondered just who she was disgusted with, "He's in the kitchen, please come in quickly before the neighbors see." She pushed her husband aside, ushering the three men into the house.

Snape met her gaze, offering the smallest of nods before brushing past, Sirius threatening to pass him if he didn't keep moving. From behind him, he heard Remus asking where Harry's room was, but he stopped hearing the moment he stepped into the disgustingly clean kitchen with a damp floor. His stomach tightened, "Boy?"

Sirius on the other hand, who hadn't seen the files, was confused by the entire situation. At least until he heard a small sound coming from the pantry. It sounded like a wounded animal, but it couldn't have been, because there was a phrase mixed between the small whimpers.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

Just the same small, innocent words laced together brought tears rushing to the dog-man's face. Glancing toward his childhood nemesis, he quickly moved toward the cupboard, "Harry?" He murmured, breathing picking up at the sight that befell him, "Oh, Harry," he murmured, reaching out to the soaking wet child hiding under his shirt.

"No!" The little boy pleaded, trying to disappear farther into the cupboard, "I cleaned it up, Uncle Vernon. I cleaned it up. I'm sorry." His words were too crisp for that of a five year old, each sharp and clear sound uttered a knife in Snape's gut. This was Lily's child, and they had all failed him.

"You aren't in trouble, Harry. My name is Sirius," Sirius tried desperately to get Harry to come a bit farther out. Snape wanted to walk out of the room and curse the entire family for doing this to a child. Memories of his own abusive childhood plagued him as Sirius continued to try and coax little Harry out of the corner. A green eye peaked out, gazing at them in fear.

Severus was hardly aware of the shouting from the other room, part of his mind impressed that the soft spoken werewolf knew that sort of language, but he made sure his main focus was on Harry, "Po- Harry," He quickly corrected himself, knowing that his hatred of the boy's father had no place here, "Come out here." His voice was still that same, low, forceful volume that he seldom changed. He almost regretted using it when the abused child flinched, but then he was standing up, swaying slightly and stumbling toward the kitchen.

"We aren't going to hurt you, Harry," Sirius murmured, kneeling down beside the frightened child. Harry's eyes, Snape noted, were locked on the ground. There was going to be a lot of healing needed, but if he was anything like his mother, he would manage, and Severus couldn't doubt that. The moment Sirius reached out, Harry flinched and braced himself, ready for a blow. Merlin, how often was this child beaten?

"Sirius," Snape murmured, catching both the other man and himself off guard by the use of his first name, "Step into the hall and send the dog in." He locked eyes with Sirius, who was confused at first, but then nodded, standing and disappearing into the other room, "Petunia!" Snape called, tempted to snicker as the muggles in the other room screamed, most likely at the fact that a man had just turned into a dog in their front hall. A moment later, Padfoot came plodding in, smearing muddy prints all over the floor and moving to Harry.

The little boy looked at the dog for a moment, glancing up at Snape, "We aren't s'posed to have puppies in here," he whispered, eyes flicking toward the door, "Uncle Vernon hates puppies." That didn't stop his little hands from reaching out and stroking Sirius's back, "Dudley wanted one for a long time," Harry mumbled, "But when he got it, he got angry at it and kicked it dow-" His eyes widened as he realized what he'd been saying and he shut up quickly, focusing on petting the dog.

It was of no concern to Severus, he was too busy listening to the breathless way the boy spoke. He wasn't aware when he'd decided to kneel, but he was suddenly at eye level with the child, "Does it hurt to breath, Harry?" He asked softly as Sirius nuzzled against Harry's hand. He didn't even glance up when Petunia came stomping in.

"What are you waiting for?!" She hissed, "Take him, before my husband tries to stop you!" Snape stood slowly, turning ice cold eyes to the woman. Disgust showed plainly on his face, "You need to tell him to come with us, or he's going to fight because you and your husband hav-" Taking a calming breath, he knelt back down beside the boy and the dog, "Harry, you are going to come with us."

Harry's head shot up in surprise. He hadn't answered the question about it being hard to breathe, knowing that Uncle Vernon wouldn't want him to, but he glanced up at his Aunt, who gave a sharp nod, "Okay," he whispered, "Can we bring the dog?"

Severus gave a cold chuckle, "I think you're going to find that the dog is impossible to get rid of." It was then that a red faced Remus came storming into the kitchen, his wand still out.

"I was going to get his things, but apparently, he _has no things,_" He raged, before blinking down at the scene before him, "Oh Merlin," he mumbled.

Severus could see that this was too much for the little boy, who was clinging to the dog, "Was I bad, Aunt Petunia? Was a worse then usual? Are these the people from the Orphanage who feed kids to the rats? I'm sorry, Aunt Petunia! I'll be better! I'll be a good boy! Don't send me away!" Snape raised his wand, gently tapping the fretting child on the head. He slumped right into the potion master's arms.

Without delay, Severus stood, sneering openly at Petunia, "This will _not_ be the last time you hear from us." For now, though, they needed to take care of Harry. Vengeance would come later.

* * *

_Next Chapter: Harry begins the healing process and makes a new friend, meanwhile, Sirius, Remus, and Severus are out for blood._


	3. The Snake

AN: My deepest apologies for being away so long. I won't bore you with reasons, and so on with the reading!

Disclaimer: I own nothing but Trix, and even that is slightly questionable.

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"Friendship is born at that moment when one man says to another: "What! You too? I thought that no one but myself . . .""

― C.S. Lewis, _The Four Loves_

_July 30th, 1986. 9:23 PM_

Shouting. Harry was distinctly aware of angry shouting and he automatically tried to curl himself into as small a ball as possible, "'m sorry! 'm sorry!" He mumbled, crying out as someone touched him. It was a light touch, but he reacted the same.

"Harry! Harry, stay still, we're just trying to help the pain stop!" A voice begged, the gentle hand still on his arm. Harry didn't care. Harry couldn't think, and his terror was enough to keep him from opening his eyes. Why couldn't he be in his cupboard? Why had Uncle Vernon sent him away? Was he really such a bad boy that he deserved to be taken away from his cupboard? Were these people going to beat him, too? Eventually, he fell still again, too tired to fight. With his eyes closed, he felt a warm thing wrapped around his body, and he knew the strangers in the room thought he'd fallen asleep.

"Poppy, when can you give him more potions?" A worried voice, that Harry would later learn belonged to Remus Lupin, asked quietly. Potions? What were potions? The little boy had heard the word in stories at school, but never often enough to know what they actually meant.

"In the morning," A woman replied softly, and Harry felt a hand, wrinkled and older, gently brushing his hair away from his face, "He's so starved that if we try to give him more right now, they'll just make him sick. I've healed what I can, but those ribs are going to be a problem. Three breaks and countless cracks that have healed incorrectly. Helga bless him, how can anyone do that to a child?"

His ribs were broken? That explained why it hurt him to breathe before, right? Harry mulled over what she was saying, hearing, but not exactly comprehending. Honestly, the little boy was just afraid of what would happen to him now. Would they send him back to his Uncle and Aunt? Would they send him to the orphanage where they cooked unwanted children into stews and served them to the other kids? Was there a third option?

"I don't know, Poppy," This was another man, the one who had tried to get him to come out of the cupboard before going to get the dog. Harry didn't understand why the voice registered somewhere within his brain; in that place that he sometimes found when he tried to remember his parents before the car wreck, "But the bastards won't get away with hurting my godson."

"You just got out of prison, Padfoot," the first man said softly, "You still need to heal, too. Let Albus ta-"

"Fuck that!" Was the sharp reply, "Albus won't be coming anywhere _near_ Harry. He's the reason that he was with that b-"

"Calm yourself, Black," Yet another voice joined in with the others, cold enough to make Harry shiver under the blanket, "This can all be dealt with in the- Trix? Child, you are supposed to be in bed." He sighed, and there was a shuffling of smaller feet, the door banging, and then Harry couldn't keep himself from drifting off to sleep. A white, warm fog settling over his mind.

* * *

_July 31st 1 AM_

This time, when Harry became aware of his surroundings, it was quiet. He rested there for a moment, eyes closed, as he tried to figure out where he could possibly be. His body didn't hurt nearly as much as it had before. Actually, he couldn't remember a time when his body felt _this_ good. The only unfamiliar feeling was that of something heavy resting against his legs. Dulled green eyes peeled open, flicking down to the black dog curled up at the base of the bed. That was odd, but somewhat comforting. He'd always loved animals- well, barring Aunt Marge's beasts.

Something moved to the side of the bed, and automatically Harry's eyes moved toward it. He let out an alarmed sound when he came face to face with a pair of bright blue eyes. They were on the face of a girl who looked around his age.

Surprised, Harry sat up, wincing and putting a small hand to his bandaged ribs. Alright, perhaps he wasn't all better. Looking at the girl, he stuttered softly, "W-Who are you?" He kept the blanket pulled up to his chin, watching the dog lift its head to watch them. It let out a little growl at the girl, resting his head on Harry's leg. Absentmindedly, Harry reached down, stroking the shaggy hair.

"You're Harry Potter," The little girl told him, ignoring his question, brushing short strands of black hair away from her face. Her eyes seemed slightly bug-eyed, her jaw too sharp, her lips too thick...she reminded him of a praying mantis.

Harry nodded slightly, "Uh huh," he mumbled, looking around the room again, before he worked up the courage to ask his question again, "Who're you?" He watched her unsmiling face again, waiting for some sort of answer. She was sort of weirding him out, but he knew better than to be rude. Uncle Vernon would find out, and then he'd be hurt all over again.

Her lip twitched up, "Trix M. Snape," she told him promptly, looking down at the dog with a smirk worthy of her father. If she knew his secret, she kept it to herself, "You're at Hogwarts now, and I'm not supposed to be in here, but I saw my Papa bring you in! So, I snuck out."

"Aren't you gonna get in trouble?" Harry asked with wide eyes. He didn't know her very well, but he didn't want her to get beaten for coming to visit him or something, "What's Hogwarts?" Harry had never really been able to talk to children his own age, simply because Dudley told them all what a freak he was before he ever had the chance to make friends.

"I'll sneak before anyone can catch me!" Trix replied, smoothing her little hands on the bed, "Hogwarts is the best place in the whole world to be," she told him simply, "Its where we get to learn magic someday."

Harry nearly gasped, looking at her with wide eyes, "Magic isn't real, Trix," he whispered, looking around as if someone would hear her, "Only bad people talk about magic...freaks."

Trix frowned, shaking her head and looking as if someone had ruffled her feathers, "That's a lie, Harry Potter. Magic is wonderful. We aren't freaks. Are you a muggle?"

"A what?"

"A muggle. Someone who isn't lucky enough to have magic powers. Someone really, really boring," The little girl replied, shrugging, "I heard the grown ups talking about the bad muggles who hurt you. Are you hurt? Well, I know you are, but if you're trying to keep it a secret…" She frowned at herself, obviously upset that she lacked the words. Her frown deepened when Harry seemed to be having trouble breathing as he shook his head. The dog stood, teeth bared, but she ignored him too, "Hey, don't cry! Here! I'll tell you one of my secrets, so we're even." She reached up to the snake pendant around her neck and tugged it off.

Harry was torn between shutting his eyes and covering his ears and watching what this strange girl could possibly do with the necklace, "Magic. Isn't. Real. Don't say that! You'll get a beating for that!" He gasped.

Trix blinked at him, snorting, "Silly boy. Just watch." She held the small charm on her palm, and even the puppy seemed entranced.

"_Dance."_ She ordered, and though Harry heard the word and understood it, the dog bared it's teeth again, slinking down at growling as the snake started to squirm on her palm, moving up her arm slightly, "I'm not supposed to show people that I can do that, cuz my papa says they'll want to hurt me for being different," the little girl explained bluntly, "But you look so scared, so now, if you get in trouble, I'll get in trouble, too."

Harry barely heard her. He couldn't take his eyes off the snake as he continued to stroke the dog's fur. After a moment, he tilted his head to the side, breath easing. What she'd said made sense, so he whispered, "_Stop."_

Everything in the room seemed to stand still as the snake curled back into a charm. Harry nervously looked up at the other child, gulping. Was she going to rat on him? How long would he be locked in the cupboard for showing his 'freaky' side.

To his surprise, however, Trix slowly smiled, the act causing her entire face to soften, "_You can talk to snakes, too?"_

Harry hesitated before nodding, "_There was a little snake that lived in Aunt Petunia's garden for the summer, and I made a little house for him before Uncle Vernon cut off his head, but I talked to him more than I talked to anybody else." _He murmured softly. For some reason, speaking in the small hisses was easier than talking normally. Maybe it was because he realized that not everyone could understand what he was saying. He suddenly liked this girl a lot more, "_You're a freak, too, aren't you, Trix?"_

"_I don't like that word, Harry Potter,"_ Trix scowled, crossing her arms over her chest, but letting the snake charm remain on the bed, "_We aren't freaks. We're special."_

Harry glanced around, afraid for another moment that he was going to be discovered...but they were actually alone, and for the first time in his short life, Harry didn't feel so alone. He looked back at the girl, "_Are there more special people like us?"_ He wasn't so sold on 'special', but if she didn't get beaten for saying such things, maybe, for a little bit, he could pretend he was 'special'.

Trix nodded, "_Yes and No. We can do more than talk to snakes, but other people can't talk to snakes, understand? You mustn't tell, alright?" _Her lip twitched as if she were trying to keep from smiling.

Harry tensed. Maybe he'd been celebrating too quickly, "_Will we get in trouble?"_

Trix snorted, "Only if we tell," she'd returned to English, holding her small pinky out, "And I swear I won't tell if you don't tell. We'll pinky promise, and you can't break pinky promises, Harry Potter."

For the first time since he'd arrived, Harry actually smiled. He took her pinky with his own, shaking it once, "I pinky promise not to tell." Both children tensed when they heard footsteps drawing closer, "Y-You better sneak out!" Harry urged, still not wanting to get her into trouble.

Trix scrambled up, reaching for the pendant. She grabbed it, but then paused before pushing it into Harry's hands, "I'll sneak back soon, cuz there are no other kids around right now." She seemed to vibrate with energy, bouncing on her heals excitedly, "And I'll bring other magic stuff and teach you. I'll be a good teacher, Harry Potter. I promise." She smirked again, waving before darting toward the wall.

Harry watched, confused as she started poking the wall. Why would she do that? Was she crazy? Then, the most amazing thing happened. The wall **giggled** and a small section slid to the side, revealing a tunnel. Trix didn't even glance over her shoulder as she disappeared inside, the wall sliding back into place a moment later. Harry could only stare, slack jawed.

Meanwhile, the shaggy dog was looking at Harry with far more focus than should have been possible from an animal. Carefully, he stood, shaking his fur out and moving to nudge Harry back down. Sirius's mind was racing faster and faster, but his first concern was keeping Harry healthy. The rest, well, the rest could be dealt with later. He let out a small huff of satisfaction as the little boy lay back on the pillow, green eyes looking up at the ceiling. Sirius watched him, eyes gleaming with love as he licked his cheek lightly.

A little hand reached out, shaking as it stroked his snout, "I think this must be a dream, dog," he whispered to the animal, "I think if I go to sleep again, I'll wake up in my cupboard again and have to make Uncle Vernon breakfast again."

Sirius's heart broke and he nudged his shoulder gently, watching Harry struggle to stay away. Laying down carefully beside him, he rested his head on his stomach, letting one eye remain trained on his godson.

"I like this dream, though," Harry yawned, "Can I stay in it forever? There's a lot of yelling, but at least I haven't got caught being bad, which is nice." His voice drifted lower and lower, eyelashes fluttering. He gripped the charm close to his chest in one hand, the other remaining on the dog as he fought sleep, "I don't usually dream 'bout being special instead of a freak, but I like it, dog. I really do…" He trailed off, finally succumbing to exhaustion. The room was silent for a moment, the foosteps outside getting louder until the door pushed open quietly.

"Sirius," Remus murmured, "You're never going to get any sleep like this. Go, I'll sit with him for a while." He eased himself into the seat that Trix had previously been in. The dog carefully moved out from under Harry's hand, dropping beside the bed and shifting into a man once again a moment later.

"First of all," He whispered back, "You're crazy if you think I'm leaving him. Second of all," his eyes flicked toward the wall where the little girl had disappeared, "I think we're in for a hell of a ride, Remmy. We've got a lot to talk about."

* * *

_Next Chapter: Sirius, Remus, and Snape have a few words with Dumbledore, and Harry learns that his furry friend isn't quite what meets the eye._


	4. The Confrontation

_Disclaimer: I still do not own Harry Potter. _  
_TW: There are mentions of past child abuse in this chapter_

* * *

"Betrayal is an ironic thing. He or she betrays you then you betray yourself. You think you're showing strength with your anger, but in reality you're showing how much you still care."

― Shannon L. Alder

* * *

Chairs, it would seem, were not the most comfortable place to fall asleep. In fact, Sirius was almost sure that he'd prefer the floor as his dark eyes fluttered opened, cramped limbs aching to be stretched out. He made a sound, more dog than human as he stretched his arms above his head and cracked his neck slightly, "Are you awake, Harry?" He asked, still not quite alert or aware of what exactly had woke him up. His gaze flicked to the bed, and his heart stopped, "Harry?" The soreness in his body was washed away by raw panic, "Harry?"

The bed was empty.

"G'back to sleep, Sirius," Remus grumped at him. The man had curled up in his own chair, the arm pressed into his cheek.

"Harry isn't in his bed, Remus. You. Wake. Up," Sirius lashed out at him with his foot, making the chair teeter. If the words hadn't been enough to rouse the werewolf, the tipping chair did the trick. The raggedy man was up in an instant.

"What?" His head snapped toward the bed, "Oh, no. Oh, no. Harry?" He looked around frantically, "Where could he have gone?! He shouldn't be out of bed. Oh Merlin."

"Don't panic," Sirius snapped, though it was very clear he was extremely close to panic himself, "He can't have gone far, come on!" Bolting toward the door, Sirius kept his eyes peeled, but apparently not well enough, because a few steps in, he very nearly skidded into the wall, "What the-"

"The floor is wet," Remus observed, confused as he rubbed his eyes, continuing toward the door, following the impeccable shine of freshly scrubbed floor, "Harry?" He called, "Harry, sweetheart, where are you hiding?" Feeling Sirius on his heals, Remus followed his hunch, a sick feeling in his gut, and continued after the cleaned floor.

"Since when did house elves use a mop?" Sirius asked, practically vibrating with worry. He should never have fallen asleep. What if the little boy had run off and hurt himself? He wasn't healthy enough to be wandering around. What if he managed to get out of the castle and into the forest?! How long had he been gone? The questions swirled and swirled in an agonizing mist as the pair continued down the hallway...until the trail- and the search- came to an abrupt hault. There, right where the floor became dry and a bucket and rag were discarded to the side, sat none other than Albus Dumbledore with a very tired looking boy on his lap.

Harry, much to Sirius's chagrin, looked quite content to be there. His eyes were lit up curiously as he sucked lightly on a green lollipop, listening to Dumbledore speak.

"And you see, Harry, that is exactly why my socks don't match. Ah, your godfathers have found us," Dumbledore told him kindly, looking up at the younger men, "Goodmorning, Gentlemen. Harry and I decided to let you sleep a bit longer."

Sirius could feel rage brewing under his skin as he looked at the old man, "How kind of you," he bit out, but immediately regretted it when Harry flinched away. Rolling his shoulders, Sirius sank down onto his haunches, trying to meet Harry's gaze with a small, soft smile, "Why'd you get out of bed so early, Harry?" He glanced toward Remus for approval, earning a subtle nod.

"I had to do the chores," Harry replied quietly, one hand clenched in Dumbledore's robes, eyes wide in fear.

"Apparently," Dumbledore said pleasantly, "At his Aunt's home, Harry woke up with the sun to scrub the floors and make breakfast for his Uncle." There was a lack of sparkle in his eyes, an ancient quality in his voice, "Someone, he convinced one of the house elves to get him a wash bucket and he's been scrubbing away since six o'clock this morning."

Sirius felt his heart break and he had to force himself to calm down, "You don't have to do that here, Harry. No one is going to make you clean."

Harry blinked, "I-I don't mind," he stuttered out, "Its all that I'm good at. Uncle Vernon says so."

"Your Uncle was wrong, Harry. I'm sure there are loads of things you're good at," Remus chimed in.

"We were just discussing that, actually," Dumbledore continued, "As a matter of fact, Harry is excellent at observing. He noticed right away that my socks are different colors. We have also talked about how sweet he is for worrying about my getting in trouble, because in his old home, matching was very important."

Harry's thumb had made its way into his mouth as he watched the grownups talk about him. He knew better than to chime in with anything, but he was torn. They had to know that he was no good, or they'd be really upset when they figured it out. A word that Dumbledore said stuck out in his brain, "'Old' home, Mr. Dumble, sir?" He suddenly looked very scared again, "Are you going to send me to the orphanage? Do my Aunt and Uncle not want to put up with my freakyness anymore?"

There was a beat of silence, and Harry feared he'd upset them all. It was Dumbledore who could finally speak, "No, Harry. We are not going to send you to the orphanage."

"You're going to stay here and live with us," Sirius whispered, voice tight, "If you want, that is, but you won't ever have to go back to live with your aunt and uncle again. You won't even have to _see_ them, again."

Dumbledore cleared his throat, shaking his head slightly, but Sirius ignored him. No, he would not allow those monsters anywhere near his godson ever again. He felt a surge of support flood through him as Remus knelt down at his side, a hand moving subtly to his back as if Remus was using him for support as well, "We'd all be very happy if you stay with us, Harry," the soft spoken man urged, "We'd like to make you part of our family."

Harry, for some reason he didn't understand, felt tears well up in his eyes. He wiped them away frantically. Uncle Vernon made him soak his head when he cried like a baby, "Y-You want me to stay?"

"Of course we do," Sirius replied, "You're very special to us, Harry. I know you don't know us very well, but we were there when you were born. Your parents wanted us to take care of you."

Harry opened his mouth again, but this time, there was another screech from down the hallway.

"SIRIUS BLACK, I TOLD YOU THAT BABY WAS SUPPOSED TO STAY IN BED." The medi-witch screamed, bursting out of the door in a rage, "HE IS NOT HEALTHY. HIS BONES NEED TO HEAL, AND I WILL HAVE YOUR HEAD ON A PLATTER-"

Almost immediately, Harry scrambled off of Dumbledore's lap, whimpering and scuttling to the corner, hands over his head, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I'm sorry." He didn't expect soft arms to come around him or lift him up- he couldn't remember the last time he'd been carried.

"Shh," Sirius whispered as Dumbledore went to head off the furious Poppy, "You're not in trouble, Harry. It's alright. She's just worried about you." Cradling the shaking child to his chest, Sirius shot Poppy a look that would have made even the bravest men tremble, "We're going to go back to the bed now, alright? And Mooney can get us some books to read. Would you like that?" They were moving now, already through the doors of the infirmary.

"I like books," Harry whispered, looking up at the man with something akin to awe, "Sometimes, when people that didn't know Dudley very well got him books for Christmas or his birthday, he'd play target practice with me."

Sirius frowned, gently setting the little boy on the bed and propping his chin on his hand, "Target practice?" The man had a feeling he wasn't going to like the story very much, and the feeling only intensified as Harry started wringing his hands around the small snake Sirius knew he was hiding, "Its alright to tell me, Harry. I promise, you won't get in any trouble for telling me what happened at your Uncle's. In fact, I want to hear all about it."

"Pinky promise?" Harry asked, holding his pinky out. The man's finger wrapped around his lightly.

"Pinky Promise, Kiddo." He smiled weakly, reaching up to tuck some hair out of Harry's face. The flinch made him want to cry.

"Okay," Harry seemed satisfied as let go of Sirius's finger, "Uncle Vernon said that he wanted Dudley to be a good shot," he kept talking as Poppy started fussing over him again, Remus and Albus talking in the corner, "So when he got books, Uncle Vernon used to make me stand against the wall, and he'd have Dudley stand across the room and aim right here." He poked at his scar, "He wasn't a very good shot, though. Once, he hit me in the eye." The way Harry spoke of it was as if it was normal. As if there was nothing at all wrong with it. Sirius was going to kill the fat bastard, "When they were done and I'd finished all my chores, I'd sneak the books into my cupboard. I was the best reader in kindergarden." There, at least, was a hint of pride.

Sirius was speechless, and for a moment, Harry was afraid he was angry. Then he did something that caught him really off guard. The dark man reached trembling hands out and gently cupped Harry's face, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead, "I'm sorry, Harry. I'm so sorry."

Harry frowned, "You didn't do nothing wrong, Mr." He was obviously confused.

Sirius chuckled darkly, "I didn't keep you safe, Harry. That was very wrong of me." He kissed the top of his head, "Now, tell me, what is your favorite snack food?"

At first, Harry wasn't sure why Sirius had changed the subject. Then, he was just confused in general, "The stuff Dudley gets?" He winced when Sirius's gaze darkened again, "I like..apples."

"Have you ever had candy, Harry? Crisps? Cakes?" Sirius asked, flexing and unflexing his fists under the bed.

"I had lots of lolipops in school," Harry replied, chewing on his lips, "But...nothing else…"

"Okay," Sirius replied, smiling again, "Well, as soon as Madam Pomfrey says that its okay, we're gonna go on a trip and you can get any sort of food that you want."

Harry didn't dare believe it. He glanced around, frowning, "Mr. Sirius-"

"Call me Padfoot," Sirius interjected.

"Mr. Padfoot," Harry nodded, not noticing Sirius's sigh, "What happened to the doggy? Did he run away?" He looked so heartbroken, but Sirius couldn't help but laugh.

"No, Harry. Remember last night when your friend talked to you about magic?" He lowered his voice so only Harry could hear, predicting the little boy's reaction pretty well. Right away, green eyes flicked around.

"Don't tell me, Mr. Padfoot. Please don't tell on Trix," Harry begged, calming only when Sirius stroked his hair again.

"All of your secrets are safe with me, Harry," He promised, "She isn't going to get into trouble."

"How did you know?" Harry whispered, "There was nobody else in here…"

"Magic, Harry," Sirius whispered, "I'm going to show you something, okay? But you have to promise to stay calm, okay. Pinky Promise." He held out his pinky again, not at all sure if this was a good idea or not, but he had to give it a shot. There was not going to be an easy way to introduce his godson to magic.

Harry hesitated only a second before linking their fingers together, "Okay. I pinky promise." Something sparked in his eyes, perhaps curiosity, perhaps wonder.

Taking a deep breath, Sirius stepped back, "Okay, here I go, Harry."

"Sirius, what are you doing?" Remus called from the door, voice weary.

"Just," Sirius breathed, "Trust me." And then, in the place where he had stood, was a very shaggy, very nervous, dog. He wagged his tail, letting it beat against the floor as he waited for Harry to react.

For a moment, the little boy just looked at him blankly. His fists raised to rub his eyes, "You. You turned into a doggy." He muttered, more to himself, "A doggy…" Sirius jumped up onto the bed, lickign Harry's face and hands, eyes pleading. All at once, Harry started laughing and laughing, "You turned into a dog, Mr. Padfoot. A real live dog."

Satisfied that his little experiment had worked, Sirius let Harry curl around him, petting him and giggling until he fell asleep nearly half an hour later. Maybe, just maybe there was some hope for a quick recovery. Sirius could only pray it could be so. Carefully untangling himself from little arms, Sirius snorted at Poppy as if to say 'take care of him, or I"ll eat you.' He moved quickly down the hall where Albus and Remus had disappeared. There was much to be discussed.

* * *

"No, Albus. I agree with Sirius on this one. You can't possibly want to send that little boy back with those..I hesitate to call them people." Remus was sighing, face in his hands.

"I assure you, Remus, I don't want to send him back- not by any means, but there are certain matters that must be discussed-"

"There will be no discussion," Sirius said calmly from the doorway, eyes burning, "In fact, I'm not sure why Remus and I should dignify you with any sort of conversation at all, old man." His posture was perfect, his words clipped. Remus could sense the storm that was headed right toward Dumbledore, and for once, he wasn't going to do anything to stop it.

"Sirius, I know you are very angry. I am angry, too. Mr. Dursely has been taken into custody on the grounds of child abuse, and I assure you that I will do everything in my power to make sure that he remains behind bars. He will be punished to the fullest extent of the muggle la-"

"Shut up," Sirius snarled, stalking toward him, "Just shut up. I don't want to hear about how the lard will be punished- no, that is a lie, but I will see to that later. Right now I want to hear about how _you_ will be held responsible. Don't you dare tell me that there were no signs that Harry was being abused. Don't tell me that you couldn't have stopped what was happening, because we all know that you are far more capable than the average man. How did you let the little boy we all love grow in the hands of a man who literally made it his goal to destroy any sense of love Harry received?" He was standing on the other side of the desk, hands shaking. This time, he was quiet, waiting for an answer.

Dumbledore sat there for a moment before removing his glasses. The wrinkles in his face seemed more defined, and for the first time in recollection, Albus Dumbledore seemed hopeless, "My apologies are useless, Sirius," he replied gravely, tears brimming in his eyes.

"Damn right they are," The dog man growled, "And it isn't me who deserves an apology. It is my Godson. The little boy who thinks he is unlovable."

Dumbledore nodded, "I swear to you, Sirius, I will do everything in my power to make this right. I know it means very little now, and I know I have let you down in so many ways, but trust me when I say this. We will keep Harry safe."

"No," Sirius laughed bitterly, brandishing a finger at him, "_Remus and I_ will keep Harry safe. You will be lucky if we let you see him. If you so much as raise a finger to hinder us in any way, I will fight for him, and make sure you are never able to manipulate his life again." And with that, Sirius Black stormed out of the office, Remus close at his heels.

* * *

_Next Chapter: Remus and Sirius come to terms with their own pain._


	5. The Forgiveness

_Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not mine and I suck at updating. _

_This is all wolfstar, so if you don't ship it, I'd ignore this chapter altogether. _

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"For there are two kinds of forgiveness in the world: the one you practice because everything really is all right, and what went before is mended. The other kind of forgiveness you practice because someone needs desperately to be forgiven, or because you need just as badly to forgive them, for a heart can grab hold of old wounds and go sour as milk over them."

**― ****Catherynne M. Valente****, ****_The Girl Who Fell Beneath Fairyland and Led the Revels There_**

* * *

"Sirius, wait," Remus panted as he followed the other man down the hall. He could still feel the way energy was zooming around Sirius's mind after the blow up in Dumbledore's office. He didn't slow, "Sirius, please!" The werewolf called, continuing after him even after they'd passed through the entrance of the wing the two had acquired as their own for the time being.

Of course, Sirius was heading toward his own room, eager to lock the door and drawn in a bottle of firewhiskey, "Piss off, Remus," he muttered, trying to slam the door behind him. He hadn't planned for his friend to be persistent. In fact, the foot that shoved through the door caught him off guard, and he allowed the werewolf to actually squeeze his way in, "What?" He snarled after a long beat, "I'm not in the mood to talk, Remus, not now." Not ever.

Yet, Remus remained, "Too bad," he said with a casual shrug, leaning against the door frame, brown eyes soft, but his posture was defiant.

Sirius shoved his books of the table, "What do you want me to say? What more is there to say? I've been rotting away behind bars, you've been rotting away in your little hiding place, and Harry has been getting the bloody hell beat out of him? What more is there? What could we discuss?"

"Well," Remus started slowly, "We could talk about how angry you are with me. That's a good place to start."

"What?" Sirius was shouting, eyes wild as he raked his hands through his hair, "You really want to hear about how..how angry I am that the man I trusted more than anything in the world let me get put away for a crime I could never have committed? You really want to talk about how I look at you, the man I- how could you, Remus? How could you not fight for me? I should hate you! I should hate your fucking guts!"

"Do you?" Remus asked him softly, "Hate me, that is?"

Sirius faltered, the rage slowly draining out of him. He shook his head, covering his face with his hands, "No. I couldn't. I want to, but I can't." His shoulders shook, and his legs buckled. He expected to feel the hard floor under his knees, but instead there were warm arms around him, tugging him close and fingers stroking his hair, "How could you leave me there, Mooney? Did you even fight?"

Remus closed his eyes, listening to the sharp sound of Sirius' heart thundering against his ribs, "Of course I fought," he mumbled, "Not hard enough. Not long enough. I was a coward. I was a fool, and I'm so sorry. I am so sorry, Sirius."

"Sorry doesn't erase those five years, Remus!" Sirius wept, "Sorry doesn't...it doesn't…" He pulled his head up, eyes bloodshot as he reached up, gripping Remus's face and kissing him hard.

Taken aback, Remus froze, lips parted slightly as the black haired man kissed him, but then the moment was over and all he could think about were the lips that had once been so familiar to him. He kissed back, arms wrapping tightly around the other man, pulling him impossibly close. The flavors of rage and love and heartbreak were potent, leaving them both reeling for air.

Sirius, however, wasn't done, "I _love_ you, Remus." He bit out, "And I'm so _angry_ at you." He rested his forehead against the werewolf's, "And I don't know what to do about it."

"I can't fix the past, Padfoot," Remus replied, sounding exhausted as he held him there, "I didn't want to live without you or James or Lily or Peter. I didn't know what to do, so I hid. I hate myself for it, Sirius. I hate myself so damn much." His voice was choked, hot tears splashing onto both of their cheeks, "I'm sorry, Sirius. I wish it had been me."

There was a soft exhale, and then Sirius pressed a soft kiss to his best friend's lips. For a long moment, he was quiet again, as if gathering himself, "I forgive you, Remus. I forgive you."

Now it was Remus's turn to melt down. He sagged heavily against Sirius, his shoulders shaking with harsh sobs. He had needed those words more than he'd needed air. His fingers dug into Sirius's shoulders, "Siri-"

"Hush. Don't kill the moment," Sirius scolded teasingly, stroking his fingers through Remus's hair, "Just...accept it. We need to move on...for Harry's sake. And for the sake of my sanity." Tilting the mousy man's head up, he pressed a gentle kiss to his lips, "I forgive you, Remmy."

Remus was silent for a moment, looking up at the haunted brown eyes, "I love you, Padfoot."

"I love you, too, Moony."


End file.
